RWBY: Land of Shadows
by Doomsdayguy12345
Summary: Seemingly forever defeated, the Dark Lord Sauron fled the world or Arda, never to return, through the Void he found a new world, one that he would now return to his former tyrannical grace, to bring his shadows upon all who dwell in the world of Remnant. Though his power grows, it is not yet whole and the champions of Remnant will not give in without a fight.
1. Chapter 1

The ages past was long forgotten on the world of Remnant, great kingdoms and empires were but distant memories from a time of mortal struggle between the race Man and their Faunus brethren, despite their current tidings of ill intent towards one another they hadn't equaled the past yesteryears of bloodshed. On a very different world there had reigned great darkness, whose malice and cruelty far out match any corrupt man or beast upon the fair world of Remnant.

Upon the world of Arada, in the land of Middle-Earth, the fallen Maiar, the Dark Lord Sauron, had cast his shadow upon the free peoples of Middle-Earth and left scars that shall forever haunt the world. Though he suffered his defeat, robbing him of his physical form, his godly essence, he existed still as a cloud of malice. His native power seemingly lost forever, he merely watched as a formless amalgamation of dark clouds, forever doomed to naw upon his own malice until the end times of Middle-Earth.

Yet despite his disability, he still sought the fleeting bits of power throughout the Void itself, knowing his once fond master existed here as its hostage. He dared not to encroach upon his former master, to avoid his ire, instead he sought past which not even the Valar dared to wonder lest they themselves earned punishment from their master, the father of all, Eru Ilúvatar.

His sight had been enlightened with that of many stars past the Void, clusters of which contained brilliance that not even his own sight could comprehend them without succumbing to agony. Despite the endless expanse of Eru's work, he felt a familiar corruption of his master, Morgoth, his crafting of evil had yet stained this tapestry of stars, his discorded notes interrupted this anarchy of light.

His sight fell upon an Arda-like world that bore a broken moon.

The malice, the envy, the primal hatred that Morgoth had imprinted into reality left an unmistaken mark upon this world. Through his astral projection he examined the races that walked the earth, the race of Men stood here, with no elven or dwarven company, they lacked the hairy foot troublesome Hobbits much to his delight. So much pain, so much waste, because of those unassuming creatures.

Curiously, he watched the race of beastly men interact with the common stock of Man, their presence seemed unwelcomed to most, however this sight was welcoming to Sauron himself as he could manipulate both like clay. He marveled at the grand engines the Men of this world had made, ships that soared through the clouds, carriages driving without the need of hooved beasts, and his eyes burned with lust of the sight of weapons that none of Middle-Earth could conceive.

He torn himself from curiosity's beckoning tune and followed the scent that emitted the evils beyond the makings of Man to the fell creatures of black and white, their red eyes glazed with malintent, feeding off darkness itself. They took notice of his form as he descended to their level, amass of shadows without form of neither Man nor beast, they struck out to swipe at wisps, confused as their claws passed through him.

That's when he reached forth and took the throat of a beast, his dark mass absorbed the beast and it was no more, yet he could feel it, power, coursing through his being once more.

The Dark Lord cackled in thunder, the skies grew dark as he feasted on the hapless monsters. He sensed the master of the beasts searching for him in the blank slates of its machinations, the Dark Lord wished to make a proper introduction for his gracious host.

In her innermost sanctum, Salem, Mother of Grimm, felt a cold tremor of fear through her being. For ages she had waged an endless war against the one she had once loved, for ages she thrived off her malice and that of her new children, the Grimm. For ages she thought herself alone in this darkness to only be accompanied by servants and monsters, for ages she knew nothing of fear. Yet now it stiffened her very being.

The darkness she felt arrive struck her with terror, it felt everywhere yet it was nowhere at once, she glanced at every corner of her grand hall with suspicion. Her terror grew as she recognized darkness, she once thought the master of, no longer being able to see past shadows, she felt alone, she felt…mortal. Then in a thunderous crash there was fire, a wall made of inferno spawned before her, making the Witch falter in her stance as she retreated from its heat.

She glanced upwards and saw it, the silhouette of a shape that reminded her of a man, yet its form was…wrong, its very presence struck her with the fear that would make the greatest of men hear their own hearts beat like that of a drum.

Before the silhouette spawned nine more beings of darkness, their hands reached out and held her prisoner, kneeled and thrashing, their dark hands burned like hellfire, she cried out in anger, fury, fear. That's when the silhouette itself floated towards her, the dark armor reflected off the fire's light, its eyes empty with endless malice.

"You cannot hide, you cannot run, I see you! Witch of this land! Before you stands I, Sauron the Great, Lord of Wolves, Lord of Gifts, Lord of the Earth!"

Salem scowled, thrashing at the burning dark hands that bound her, she sent a mental cry to her Grimm, marshalling their aid to her, "Release me! How dare you lay your hands on me!?"

Sauron reached out with his clawed four fingered hand, piercing into the breast of Salem, her cry reverberating throughout the hall as he wrestled the darkness within her to be bent to his will, "Thou hast created a vast army of beasts, thou hast sown great sorrow into the lands of Men, yet thou hast not the vision of Sauron, thy time has come to an end. Surrender thy power unto me! Fade into nothingness, begone from this world and embrace thy doom!"

In her despair she felt her power wane, the minds of Grimm faded from her hold, doom befell them, or they were now presumably under the control of this being of pure malice that not even the Brother of Darkness could manifest. For a fleeting moment she thought of him, rescuing her from the tower her father kept her prisoner, she thought of the man that had brought great joy in her life yet also great pain. In her desperation she thought of Ozma, how she wished things had not gone the way they did, as her evil was drained a great deal from her body to fuel the Dark Lord Sauron. She thought about how sorry she was, about how their war had well and truly been her fault, and that her death would be the price she'd pay for these ages of strife.

From behind her however came rescue, in the form of Hazel and Beowulves that launched themselves towards their mistress despite the aura of terror from Sauron. Yet the dark Lord would not engage them, neither his dark servants as they vanished along with him like a flame being snuffed from existence, as if they were never there.

Salem gasped as a rush of air coursed through her lungs, burning like the fiery grasp of the Dark Lord, she craned her neck to see the scorch marks against her breast, fatal wounds for a normal human as the bladed fingers would've pierced through her heart and lung.

"Salem," Hazel asked as he helped support her, the Beowulves sniffed throughout the room to try and track the intruders, "what happened? What was that thin- oh my, Salem…your eye."

With hazy vison she glared at him with effort to stand, "My eye? What about my eye?"

"The right one, its, its blue ma'am." He said with confusion.

From her right the Seer Grimm brought forth a mirror, the dark mistress took it with haste and investigated her minion's claims, to her shock, not only had her right eye been turned blue but some of her hair had turned blonde.

What has he done?

Taking refuge within a cave of darkness did Sauron rest his weary projection, much of his power was used to travel this far but with his newfound gifts from his gracious host he could now at least tether himself here, if not completely pull himself away from his failed conquest of Middle-Earth. He burrowed within the earth into dormant tubes of lava and set upon forming his new abode.

* * *

Months would past before his new fortress was made anew, much of its help being done with the new machinations of his will. He formed with its new beasts, drawing hordes of Orcs from Middle-Earth with his new-found strength, he sacrificed a few to make these Uruk hai ob burzum, Orcs of darkness, his Burz-uruk, Dark Orcs.

Kala ob Burgulu, his Fortress of Shadows, was now breeding legions of his common Uruk as the Burz-uruk needed teachers and brothers on this world to further the will of Sauron. His encounter with the Witch had seemingly gone unnoticed by the world beyond his caverns, his sight had shown him this much. He had yet to fully integrate himself to this world as he needed a tether, something to hold himself contained yet not vulnerable as his once precious ring had left him.

He needed a body, a strong one.

With his will he summoned forth his newly reformed Nine, the dreaded Nazgûl, their black captain now revived stood before Sauron before falling to a knee. His favored servant was befelled not by a man, but by a woman and hobbit, such a humiliation had made him bitter even by his own previous immoralities, he sought vengeance and blood for his defeat, though he would not find it here.

"Go forth, into the lands of Men that encroach on my new kingdom," Sauron bellowed in the shaking cavern, "slay those that you find, sow the seeds of their doom, make them fear their very shadows my terrible servants of the night."

On Grimmish stallions they road, The Nine, shrill shrieks sang out into the air in a black tune that chilled the forest around them, a horde of Burz-Uruk trailed behind being led by the common Uruk slavemasters, their parchment skin blackened by the night whilst their eyes glowed like menacing mountain felines.

As they approached their destination their small army ceased its noisy charge and morphed with the darkness itself. The Orcs found their natural ability to stalk through the brush useful as they spied a village down by the treeline, carven stone structures stood just barely underneath the leaves the trees, homely looking with light shining past glass paned windows, the creatures sniffed the air for the scent of Manflesh, and for the flesh of the Manbeasts, their mouths frothing at the thought of their flesh. Would they be chewy? Would they be crunchy? Could they stew them? Eat the raw? Eat them squirming and crying? Bleeding like stuffed little piglets, their soft fleshy bellies splitting open to be plundered of their tasty morsels…

The live Orcs snarled and snapped their jaws in hunger, snorting and sniffing the air with gluttonous glee.

The Witch King stood foremost of his wraiths, his blade drawn to his side and his mace against his armored shoulder. His stare fell upon the inhabitants that gathered in the town square to celebrate mirth and cheer, his grip tightened on his sword at the thought of befalling their heads. He glanced to his right, Khamûl the Easterling had drawn his blade, his Eatsernling helmet poked up underneath his hood, yet to The Witch King, he saw his Twilight Form glowing in the night with his armor beneath the robes.

"Shall we not sally forth?" Khamûl asked with his blade gleaming in the night, thirsty for the blood of Men to try quenching its thirst.

"They sing songs of merriment," The Witch king spat with malice, his tone turned grim with a dark chuckle, "shall we serenade them with a tune of our own?"

His wraiths prepared themselves as he took the lead with a terrible cry, "WWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-SHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-!"

With the horrible scream in the air, all merriment halted and terror seized the Men of the village below, their cries of pain like music to the Black Riders as the Burz-Uruk charged forth ahead of their slavemasters, the Grimm instincts of their beings having taken over all sense of reason. With flailing axe and blade in hand they stormed into the village, felling the outlying Men with the greatest ease, bisecting them with fell blades as if they were made of swine flesh to a kitchen knife.

In a steady stride the Nazgul sallied forth, bringing their dreaded Black Breath surrounding them in a deadly aura as they joined in.

The cracking of the air drew their attention however, a great terrible noise that could rival the deafening nature of their shrill screams, their master had given warning that the arms of these Men were unlike that of the Men of Gondor and Rohan. His warning had not gone unheeded, yet the darkest of Sauron's servants observed with curiosity as a woman tore apart a horde of Burz-Uruks with ease, her strange machination of smoking barrels shown golden and steel colored yet unleashed fiery death from spinning barrels.

She stood tall for a woman, strong too, for the way she handled such an unwieldy machine, yet from the witch King's down fall they now know not to underestimate the fairer sex of the race of Men. There was another woman, a she-beastwoman with the ears of a hare upon her head, using a weapon made of light to pick off their Orcish archers with bolts of light.

"What sorcery be this?" The Shadow Lord asked with bewilderment.

The Dark Marshall grunted under his hood, his sight going towards the Dark Orcs that chased their human quarries into the taller stone structures, "Surely these two curiosities are not worth our sight nor strength, they shall be dealt with by the servants, not by our hands."

The Betrayer gave a passing glance to the Witch King, "Far be it that we underestimate the fairer sex, unlike our captain once did."

There was an instant reaction when the Witch King sent a bolt of black lightening from a tainted Lightning Dust crystal at his Southlander subordinate, knocking him clear from his Grimm steed, "SILENCE! GO FORTH AND SLAY THOSE WENCHES YOU LAZY WORM ROTTEN CORPSE!"

The Betrayer hissed as he took back his reins, scowling deathlessly at his better, but rode towards the fray with his black blade drawn, The Tainted, The Knight of Umbar, The Dwimmerlaik, The Shadow Lord and The Undying sallied after him with their blades drawn in a V formation. Leaving only The Witch King, Khamûl the Easterling, and The Dark Marshall to observe the fray.

Twenty minutes before…

"This isn't too bad, a bit boring, but I can dig it." Coco Adel said as she reclined on a lawn chair, the rest of her team, team CFVY, sat along with her in a circle. Velvet, their Faunus teammate, watched the town festivities whilst munching a carrot filled plate, to her left sat their silent teammate Fox Alistair reclined with his eyes closed, supposedly sleeping with the sounds of festivities around him. Yatsuhashi Daichi, their final teammate, however stood monitoring the Festival of The Returned. This annual celebration that honored the few surviving veterans of Remnant's past wars and the ushering in of their blessed era of peace. Lights were hung, songs played, people laughed, danced, loved, it was truly a holiday meant to commemorate the sacrifice of those they lost.

Team CFVY had been selected to be Huntsmen security during the festival underneath the supervision of the town Sheriff, they did have a support team, the first years known as Team RWBY. The first years seemed rough around the edges, but CFVY was no different in that regard, they were a bunch of misfits at first but now were practically inseparable.

Coco had thought that eight Huntsmen in training was kind of overkill in a town that hasn't had any major Grimm activity for years, just the occasional Beowulf every now and again, easily dispatched by the Sheriff and his posse. Then again, the world was anything if not full of surprises as she came to learn with her short tenure being a team leader, something she knew that her fellow younger team leader was sure to come to know.

The little scythe wielder grew on her, how couldn't she? Such innocence was so pure that it brought a bitter sweet smile to nudge its way at the corner of her mouth, little Ruby Rose was a fine person, she hoped that the world would not be so cruel to something so pure.

Little did she know, the world cared not for innocence, and the shadows thrived off cruelty.

From just beyond Coco's sight did Team RWBY lie about in a similar state of leisure, crowding around a table with two benches. The starry silver eyed girl sat quietly with a grin on her face, watching and feeling the jubilee of the town filling her heart, she loved the music and the smell of good food in the air. Her partner on the team, Weiss Schnee, sat similarly but had preoccupied herself with filing her nails, though she did glance up every so often to watch the laughter of children, chasing one another with sparkling sticks.

Her background of aristocracy had graced her with many privileges yet robbed her of so many things that made even the poorest of the poor happy, the warming love of those they called kin. Though, her team seemed to suffice this void within her heart. From behind her sat Blake Belladonna, a cat Faunus girl hiding in plain view with the help of a black bow bestrewn over her ears, she enjoyed a plate of fried fish with contentment, a distraction from the regret that plagued her past.

The fourth member, Yang Xiao Long, half-sister to Ruby Rose was not present at the table, instead she danced with a village boy. Her lilac eyes glimmered in the light of the party, something that always held a special sort of allurement to her, being in the center of festivities with her long flowing blonde hair trailing behind her with its brilliant curls. She had picked a rather unassuming and young village boy, much too young for her, but she had seen this sullen lad standing off on his own and it just did not fit her view properly, so she extended her hand for a dance so he too could enjoy this time of merriment.

Their song was coming to an end when it happened, that terrible spine-tingling shriek, like a thousand whistling artillery shells had taken to the sky and found their marks upon the village. The sound was so terrible that it caused every man, woman, and child to clutch their ears in agony as their bodies were chilled with fright, their Faunus comrades faired much worse, as their animal instincts took them over and they hid where they thought they'd be safe.

Then came the roars, the snarls, the hungry cries from above in the forest's canopy.

Ruby had fallen to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks as her head thumped like she had been clubbed, she checked the back of her skull for blood and sighed with relief at her clear hand. The girl rose unsteadily, a state of shock had made her world numb as she gathered her bearings, Yang had huddled over the boy she had been dancing with, trying to console him as he held up blood covered hands from his dripping ears.

Weiss Schnee tried to help Blake come out from under the table, yet the Faunus lied in a fetal position, mewling as she tried to cover all for of her ears at once with failure, "Come on! Get out from under there Blake, we're being attacked!"

The raven-haired Faunus girl would not budge, her cat eyes were wide with terror, her feline pupils more pronounced than previously as an inner native animalistic instinct had her held prisoner in her own body. Weiss tried to pull her out but got a slash from her friend's fingers against her wrist, she cried out and rubbed the stinging pain, glaring hotly for a moment but then thawing to concern at the look of unnatural terror that had stricken Blake's features.

"Blake?"

Ruby had been brought out of her daze with the sound of battle, she watched with horror with the coming of twisted humanoid beasts lead packs of Grimmish humanoids, carrying gnarled weapons of iron and steel, pouncing on the vulnerable civilian populace, dread and horror filled her being with the sight of crimson blood and with the screams of pained death. In a flash she had unfurled Crescent Rose, tears stung her eyes and flailed with the rose petals that spawned from her speed semblance to cut off a thrall of monsters and cut through them with one massive arc, "GET AWAY FROM THEM!"

The horde was bisected, their bodies and limbs flailed as they simmered into nothingness to plague Mankind no more, yet many of their kin still spilled forth from darkness. A green skinned, red eyed Orc of Mordor snarled at her, its gnarled teeth clicked and clacked with a hiss, "What's this little morsel? A maiden with tender skin? All for Grishnak? I bet you'll taste good raw, and squealing!"

Ruby raised her scythe to catch the whip thrown her way, she struggled for a moment with the creature's grip, but she dashed forward and kicked underneath its gaping maw, sending spit, teeth, and black blood sailing through the night sky with its pitiful wail. It dawned on her that this was a living creature and in the amalgamation of Grimmish horrors she killed a few of its kind, yet she felt no sorrow nor despair over the taking of their lives or the ruination of the one called Grishnak's face.

More beasts circled her, Grimmish in their horrific design and non-Grimm, whatever sort of creature they were with their jagged teeth, pointed ears and snouts, blackened ugly weapons in their hands with murder in their eyes. She stifled a breath momentarily, then a wall of ice sliced the horde in half as Weiss came to her aid, Myrtenaster shining in night, the Schnee Heiress had a disgusted look with a furled nose, "They smell as bad as they look."

A faint smile crossed Ruby's lips, she spun Crescent Rose and stabbed the blade into the dirt, lining her sights up with one of the ugly beasts and started firing volleys into their mass of blackness, ignoring the shrill humanoid cries and blackened blood dusting the air. Weiss covered her partners back, dashing around with her glyphs to banish the beats with swipes of her blade, she crossed swords with a snarling beastly thing, its teeth yellow and filed down like daggers. She formed a glyph upon its breastplate quickly and struck with a punch that sent it into an inferno that was caused by their invasion, she through a wave of fire into the treeline from which they seemingly spawned out of, burning many Grimmish monsters and whatever the living creatures were.

Yang barreled through several Grimmish ghoulish monsters, her fiery fists tearing them to pieces with every jab, she ducked underneath a fell blade and sent its wielder through a parked car, where his gore slandered the white wall behind him with black ichor. She grimaced seeing townsfolk slain in the streets, the living monsters pinned once happy folk down and took away their heads with unclean weapons, her once lilac jovial eyes turned crimson with fiery rage as her mane burned bright enough to blind dozens of the ghoulish monsters, her rage descending vengeful shotgun gauntlet blows that evaporated much of their bodies upon impact.

Yatsuhashi Daichi in great arcs of his sword sent monsters flying, Fox kept his back clear of sneaking Orcs, he would even intercept arrows meant for the large student's back, archers had scaled the building around them, they snarled insults in a tongue that none but their own understood. Velvet had recovered from the instinctual fright that had arrested her conscious, she utilized her box and spawned from it a rifle of Atlesian make, the rabbit Faunus took aim for the black armored archers, Grimm and none-Grimm monsters that lined the surrounding rooftops.

Squealing beasts fell from buildings and into the streets around Coco Adel, she struck a brazen yellowed skinned creature with her purse, sending it against a wall with a splat. The carnage around her was a nightmare, one she had hoped there was waking up from as her minigun revved up, the spinning barrels spat burning metal through the mindless horde, thinning them in one swing of her weapon.

The Sheriff and his posse joined in the fray, firing at the monstrous archers, engaging the beasts of all kinds in a brutal melee. Blake Belladonna had also come back to her senses, giving support to the Sheriff posse by taking out the bigger monsters with Gambol Shroud, her handgun-blade combiweapon. More still poured forth from the flames, yet to the horror of the Huntsmen in training, the fires split in two as black riders on Grimm horseback came through with ghostly silence, then they heard it again. That terrible shrieking, stunning them with terror.

One of the riders with broadsword raised struck down a horror-stricken posse-man in a single swipe, his scream tore the Huntsmen in training from their stunned horror enough to dodge the black cavalry men as they darted towards them on Grimmish-horseback.

Ruby blasted the ground to launch herself into the air with her sniper-scythe, she fired a round at one of the riders that bore a wooden staff and to her surprise he merely backhanded her round away to the dirt with a swing of his staff. One rider with a black turban over his hood, with violet trappings beneath his robes swung his sword low, slicing through a posse gunman and his weapon with bitter ease as his sword glowed with ethereal power.

The riders kept the Huntsmen in training at a distance from the snapping maw and deadly clawed hooves of their beastly mounts, the blades of the riders cut down posse-men with an eerie casualness, an Aura wielding man mange to take a strike to his chest but screamed as if he was on fire, his Aura flared painfully when the black riders battered him with strikes until he was cut in two.

Blake managed to land a clear shot on one of the hooded riders, but her bullet did not phase the rider as he continued his charge unphased by the rounds that struck him straight in the chest. Coco struggled to find the right moment to use her weapon, but the riders were too close to her friends and the villagers to let loose, she had to contend with sending the odd burst towards the Grimmish creatures that still poured like a black wave of doom.

A singular shrill cry sent the Huntsmen in Training spiraling, keeping their guard and courage up despite the pain, despite the nigh overwhelming sense of fear that nearly sent even the brazen Yang Xiao Long and stoic Yatsuhashi Daichi in a state of terror. The riders evaded them to form up in two groups of three as another trio of their kind came prancing down from the darkness, the fires dimmed around them as they caught sight of the lead rider.

His jagged helm gave off the impression of narrowed eyes, yet no eyes were seen, he carried both a broadsword and mace, the sword itself was identical to his fellow riders until it became wreathed in a fire that not even Dust could replicate. Beside him road one that had a gold colored helmet underneath his hood, an eyeless stare sized up the youths and posse-men that remained. The last one sat upon his Grimm-steed, bringing the edges of his metal clad fingers against his, making a cringe inducing grinding noise with the motions of stroking a cat.

It was he that spoke first with a mocking chuckle, "What be this? Tavern wenches bearing arms? Doth thou do the men's fighting before warming their beds?"

The girls visibly took offense to the dark creature's remark, Ruby Rose being the more innocent of the group flared almost redder than her cape, her older sister however punched a Fire Dust round past the Nazgûl's head, hitting only an already burning ruin, the dark creatures didn't even so much as look behind them to see where the round landed nor did they falter. Silence reined for only a moment as the Nazgûl stared down the fiery blonde in particular, gripping his sword's hilt, dread radiating from the specter.

"That was a mistake, wench," The Dark Marshall hissed, turning his blade towards Yang's direction, "thou hath cost thy self a killing blow!"

"Surrender before the might of the Dark Lord, Sauron!" The Witch King called out, his lord's name causing a strike of thunder in the air and a chill that struck the youths like a storm of frost, "Thy deaths shall be quick then, prey of the Nazgûl!"

With their dreadful shrieks smothering the air, the Nazgûl charged with blades drawn and shining, steam blew from the gnarled snouts of their daemonic Grimm-steeds, mullers were instead drawn fangs, hooves be hooked claws of a reptile, their mounts were as eager as they for slaughter.

Coco Adel revved her minigun and fired a volley meant to strike down the Grimm-steeds, the bullets managed to clip the legs of the outer beasts, sending them to the dirt and their riders flying, yet the three in the middle had the foresight to jump over the volley and close the distance. The creatures that the Nazgûl rode upon snapped and clawed, forcing their prey on their toes, within reach of their blades.

The Witch King's fiery blade slashed through the air, Ruby held Crescent Rose in her defense, when the blade struck her weapon she dashed away from the flames that threatened to cover her chest, she patted away at her burning sleeve with the sound of her heart beating through her ears. Blake fired a whole magazine into Khamûl, the bullets visibly struck him yet they did not pierce his back, he screamed in her direction and she froze in stark terror, unable to over when his beast reared and charged for her, it was only by quick action from Fox tackling her did the monster chomp at air.

Coco Adel and her partner Velvet shot at the Nazgûl who were bound to race on foot, their bullets struck them, impeded their movement even, yet the pressed on and refused to die like their Grimmish creatures.

Yang punched blast after blast at The Dark Marshall, he deflected a blow with his sword, sending it into Weiss who used a glyph to lessen its blow but slid across the battlefield, wreathing her in dirt much to her chagrin. Already had the Nazgûl who had been on foot reached the battle, swinging their blades and clashing with Team CFVY, the sorcerous wraiths could see the Aura that surrounded their young foes, sneering in disgust of the light that stung their sightless eyes, the light surrounded their weapons to strengthen them against the doom bringing blades of the Nazgûl.

Ruby fired a round that scraped the side of The Witch King's helmet, he charged at her with his mace striking Yatsuhashi with his blocking blade aside, his anger giving him strength to send the titan of a teen into a wall of ruins. The youngest Rose fired round after round, each bullet being deflected or missing the wraith as terror filled her being, the empty gaze of The Witch King ignited with fire, his eyes taken the form of crimson flames, lidless and with the figure of a being in them.

"Grish-irzi, za shapat bolkat dûthugum!"

Terror struck Ruby stiff as her eyes followed the blade aimed for her neck, unable to move let alone breathe as her fate swung for her. Yang screamed her sister's name with helpless horror as she fended off two Nazgûl, Blake threw her ribbon latched weapon to pull away her friend but a black blade cut through the fabric, Weiss flew above the ground on a glyph with a cry but none were close enough to stop the blade from reaching their young captain. Her fate sealed.

CLANG!

A wailed escaped The Witch King as a sword appeared before his prey's neck, its light flared before his flaming eyes, he drew himself back only to stare in anger and confusion. Before him a rider rode upon a pale horse, a Rohian stallion, the shield being the sigil of the maiden who had slain him upon it, but the rider-

Upon the pale stallion sat a knight of Rohan, yet his face was wreathed in chainmail, his helm glimmered with light that was like a torch in the darkness that sent The Witch King backwards, "Foul shadows of the night, slaves of darkness, I come for thee! Thy folly in Arda only be made ten-fold here, thou hath cursed me, and thus I shall follow thee wherever thy Lord seeks to hide thee, Dwimmerlaik!"

One of the riders, one known as The Dwimmerlaik of Rohan screamed, his anger manifest through his wild thrashing to close the distance with the cursed Rohan rider only to be held back by Fox's bladed arms, he kicked the flailing ghoul away but felt himself grow weary, sickened from the presence of the ghouls. Fiery blade met Man forged steel, The Witch King snarled viciously as the warrior broke his guard, forcing the dark servant to back away on his steed, "That blade…"

The Rider pointed the blade at The Witch King with a smug glimmer in his blue eyes, "Númenórean, it be, a blade that shall smite thee, slave of darkness, if not by the hand of a man such as I, then it shall give way to the hand of a maiden, such as it did for Éowyn!"

Rage enveloped The Witch King of Angmar, he let out a horrific shriek of pure malice, so intense that even the Rohan rider cringed at the sheer tone of unbridled undead anger that was unleashed in its bareness. The Rohirric warrior blocked and parried frenzied strikes, ignoring the flames that flew against his armor and striking back with righteous fury, beating back his foe to an impasse of mounted swordsmanship.

From the sky came Bullheads, reinforcements called in by the town mayor, a battalion of automated knights and a team of veteran Huntsmen were descending from the skies. Metal legions cleared away the Burz-Uruk, the Uruk-hai themselves fled past the burning trees and into darkness, with his forces routed, The Witch King saw no victory yet no defeat either, for while men still drew breath they would now know to fear the darkness of night anew.

A command from his lord came through his mind, "Withdraw my servants, I have not the desire to raise you once more this night, withdraw and return to me."

In his fiery gaze there was indignant rage, once more he was humiliated by the flesh of Rohan, his prey escaped his deathly blow. His fellow Nazgûl sheathed their blades, utter in Black Speech a foul spell that had turned them immaterial and into black mists that fled into the shadows, their lingering words had paralyzed their mortal combatants in pain and fear, their Black Breath however was not able to envelop them as their protective spirits barely kept it at bay.

"Azubulûk-izg," He growled to the Rohan rider, glaring past the gleaming armor and into the hollow spirit that rode upon his stallion, "Ghâra burzum, srinkhat, krimpatul thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!"

In a furious mist The Witch King departed, leaving the Rohirric man alone with the mortal, weary, Huntsmen in Training. He sheathed his blade, the scent of the Nazgûl had gone cold, but their presence was still felt, especially over his heart where the Morgul Blade's sting was still felt despite his undeathly nature. He glanced down to the young maiden clothed in black and red, carrying her peculiar scythe, her foreign silver eyes glimmered up at him like wonderous coins, filled with questions, filled with emotion that choked her being into silence.

"I am Haleth Mund, rider of Rohan, servant of…servant of none, my lord has passed, and my lands are far, but my sword, Háma, is forged to fight for the free folk and we are at your lord's service, fair maiden." The knight bowed his head and raised it slowly, his stunned ally had yet to speak but she was now looking past him, where a legion of armored machinations stood with their weapons trained on him, "A well and true introduction is in order it seems."

* * *

Down in the dark depths there was a great commotion, Orcs and Uruk-burz milled about in the shadows, crouching low to not be bore naked to the fearsome might of their lord, Sauron. His majesty was a being of molten rock and fire, possessing these elements for only a short time as the rock slid and reformed his image in fluctuations as this for was not one he in all his power could take for long.

He lorded over his kneeling Nazgûl, eyeing each of them as he saw through their visions, shifting through each memory, each face, "Children? Children bore arms against thee, my Nazgûl, with weapons that fired pellets of metal? Wreathed within the mail of their spirits? A truly odd spectacle- but no matter, this world may possess arms that not even my own had thought of, but where they exist so shall they become mine, as this world shall one day soon be."

The Witch King lifted his visage, starring up with his spirit-form bare to his master, "So shall they be, my lord, but what of he that followed us? What shall be done with him?"

"That is not of our concern, for now. He has arrived alone, his folly in his vengeance, yet he has now made contact with the Light of this world, yet that matters not, none here dare rivals Sauron."

At least this was the thought of the dark lord, he knew very well from his past follies his enemies no matter how great or small could be ignored, those he now face possessed wonders of which he had none, but his favored servants will bring him the arms that he desired, the arms to build a new Mordor.

A new Land of Shadows.

/

Wow, would you look at that, another new story! I wonder if that Doomsdayguy will ever finish anything he has ever written, what a swell character he is. I couldn't help myself, I saw that trailer for the movie about Tolkien then I found this book called The Dark Powers of Tolkien, and, well…this. The ghouls in hoods were my favorite things in all the LOTR movies, no matter how much people hate them for not being direct from the books, but lets be honest here, modern day audiences are too stupid to comprehend half the shit Tolkien wrote because he lived in a time where people valued grammar.

That's the pot calling the kettle back, am I right? I promise to release a DKRWBY teaser by this Friday at the latest, perhaps even a Helghan's Reach chapter if my busy schedule allows for it. But if you want to see something cool, that I totally didn't shill for, check out "Being surrounded is more fun with friends" by GrimSoldier001, he's an awesome artist that you should totally follow, if you don't, then the Black Breath be upon thee foolish mortal.

Translation:

From above, where The Witch King threatens Ruby, in a rough translation, "My sword will need to be cleaned tonight!"

I forgot my translated flashcard for that one.

"I will kill them all,"

"From darkness, gather, from darkness, and in the darkness bind them!"


	2. Chapter 2

Her heart trampled with the hooves of a thousand mares, eyes darted to and fro, breathes came out ragged, shallow in the freezing night like puffs of smoke from a cottage chimney. There was pitch blackness, darkness so smothering that she felt it stealing away her breath and the light from her eyes. She felt like screaming, yet no voice would flow past her lips to cry out within the void, her mouth smothered with no foreign contact, lips bare yet bound.

Ruby felt as though she were falling, her cape billowed, and her limbs were stiffer than stone, her heart filled her ears with its rampant beating, she could not close her eyes. With her body at the mercy of nothingness she felt so alone but the unease of a thousand unseen eyes gazing upon her weighed heavily on her heart, they were there, she could feel them. There was a creeping feeling of icy, boney hands edging towards her scalp, the hairs upon her neck stood erect with terror, eyes frantically flickering side to side as she was powerless to turn her head even in the slightest of directions.

She was frozen with pure terror.

There was a powerful urge to weep, cry her eyes out like a small child, cry for her mother's embrace, her father's, her sister's protection from whatever cold creature brushed past her hair. The silence was maddening if not for her constant beating heart, yet it too wore upon her nerves, the urge to move to scratch itches that sprung up from her solitariness, the need to pop joints, to stretch muscles robbed from her by this unseen invisible force.

Then she heard it, a voice of malice, spite, colder than even the frostiest blizzard, "Nardur sharaniz"

*Little woman*

Ruby's eyes wired shut with trembling terror, the voice was right in her ear, whispering to her in such a proximity that she felt the chill of its breath, no warmth or evidence of true life. Fear unlike any other smothered her being, even if Crescent Rose was by her side there was no way she could coax her muscles into reaching for her weapon, it was like she was left bare naked in front of a Beowulf Alpha.

In a blinding flash a horrific perversion of a man appeared before her in blinding white light, his jaw distended with a crown adorning his head, "WWWRRRRYYYYYYYYY-SCCCCHHHHRREEEEEEE!"

Her eyes trembled in terror, pain consumed her body from the hellish screech of the monster that floated inches from her face, she floated helplessly in its presence, the scream brought back the memories of the festival and the slaughter that happened there. The scream- this was one of those creatures on the Grimm Steeds.

She stared into the black pits where its eyes should've been, seeing nothing to give credence to it ever having a soul, just a husk of a man bound to darkness. His hand cuffed itself near her throat, yet it could not touch her, golden light burned its hand, making the monster recoil with a screech.

"I was once a king of men," He whispered like nails tearing into a chalk board with a widening grin of wrinkled dead skin, "now I am… Nazgûl!

Ruby's ears felt like they were going to bleed, that word, that terrible word coming from the mockery of life in front of her seemed to prick her ears, his wavering form glared at her hatefully as if she had wronged him, "No one comes between the Nazgûl and his prey, prepare yourself, nardur sharaniz, I will come for you."

She was then assailed with terrible visions, the monsters from the town were storming Vale with the Nazgûl riding their monstrous mounts, people were either cut down or placed in chains with whips tearing open their backs with vicious strikes from cruel masters. The tower of Beacon was caved in, the top no longer represented what Ozpin's school once was, instead it was a spiked prong with green fire bellowing from the sides, most of Beacon was a ruin with black metal forming structures within in its corpse.

Suddenly a bright orange fire appeared at the tower's peak, with the armored figure she saw in the apparition's fiery eyes when he had charged her in the town. He stared directly at her, his breast plate had her sigil, Weiss', Blake's Yang's, and her various friends strewn across him like badges, "You will submit before me, or the suffering you shall endure will be legendary, and your screams will echo throughout my realm for all of time."

"Farn!" Came a booming voice unlike the malicious shrieking monsters, it was the voice of a man she determined, warm and thick with fury, "You this assail this youth no longer!"

A bright warm light washed over her from behind, the vision burned away, and the apparition faded back into the form she saw during the Festival of The Returned, clothed in black robes with a metal helm. Fire engulfed the being as its shriek was drowned out and its form vanished from her sight, the brilliant warm light relieved her of her pains, giving her the strength to move.

Ruby awoke with a hard thud, landing on her shoulder hard, she hissed and flailed on the ground in a fury in tangled white sheets. She was drenched in sweat with her head ringing like thunder, she mewled curling up in a fetal position with her forehead against her knees, she heard bells and her thumping heart, for a few minutes she weathered this agony as it slowly subsided. With a shaky hand she gripped the mattress she had been sleeping on and pulled herself up to a kneeling position, panting with exertion, never had she felt this powerless.

'The medical ward.' She observed with stinging eyes, moaning as she covered them with her palms, slowly she formed the will to squint, seeing the beds filled with her teammates and team CFVY, tossing and turned with pain stricken faces, some with looks of terror as they shivered under thick blankets. She worked up the will to crawl back on top of her mattress, panting and wincing as every joint seemed to ache like she had a full body workout and hike, she was wearing plain hospital trousers and a shirt, an uncomfortable shiver ran through her with the knowledge that an orderly had undressed and redressed her. Ruby dared not move now that a wave of nausea washed over her, threatening her with the prospect of projectile vomit, she stared up blankly at the ceiling with the fearful possibility of sleep.

A door opened and she heard several footsteps rapidly approach her bed with the thumping of a pair of heavy boots. Relief washed over her when she saw the concerned faces of headmaster Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch.

"Ruby? Are you alright?" Goodwitch asked, feeling her forehead, she retracted her hand quickly, Ruby was burning up with sweat beads covering her.

Ruby dared not speak with the fear of embarrassing herself by puking over her teachers, her silver eyes did shimmer when the warrior from before came into view with his strange medieval armor, his face obscured by his chainmail, "Have her drink this tea, it is the tea of Athelas, Kingsfoil. It shall help her greatly."

Ozpin gratefully took a cup from the knight and helped Ruby sit up, he brought the sweet-smelling herb water to her lips. She sipped it gently at first, then with a bit of strength in her arm urged the Ozpin to help her drain the cup. Ruby's arm fell back with a soft thud, the taste of strawberries was refreshing to her, yet she still could not find the strength to speak.

"She must rest, the Black Breath of the Riders is a powerful weapon, they use it only in battles against foes they want to suffer, yet this more than that- sorcery assails these youths." She heard the knight say.

Ozpin set Ruby back down against her pillows, covering her in the blankets that had fallen with her, he turned to the knight with dread in his eyes, "How long will they be like this, Haleth?"

The Rohan rider stared down at Ruby's prone form, her silver heads flickered with heavy eyelids that threatened sleep, "For that I cannot tell thee, sorcery is above my means of understanding, despite myself being victim of it, its limits is above mine knowledge. Only time shall tell, we must brew more tea with what I brought, then make plans to grow and harvest more."

Ruby forced her eyes open despite her lethargic terror, resting was the last thing she wanted now, she reached for Ozpin's sleeve, he bent down to hear her whisper, "I saw them- t-those things, they were talking- showing me-"

"Believe not the lies of Dark Lord," Haleth said taking her hand, his heavy leather laden hand could engulf her frail meek hand with ease, "thy body must heal, only by rest and the help of the Kingsfoil shall you be able to bear arms once more. The nightmares shall abide."

She saw Haleth pull out a few more of the sweet-smelling leaves, he placed one near her pillow and despite its small size its friendly odor was strong, her heavy eye lids fell to the allure of sleep and no more was she awake. Ozpin and Glynda watched her for a moment to see if she'd be reverting to nightmarish torment that the others endured, instead she lied there with peaceful motionlessness.

A relieved sigh left the Headmaster, his students had fallen to the Black Breath when the dreadful Black Riders and the monsters they lead fled into the burning forest, Haleth had given only a minor summary of what they dealt with. The Dark Lord as he was referred to as had found Remnant, he fled here and gained tremendous power at a terrifying rate, he reawakened his foul champions from certain oblivion, and now set his sights upon conquest. Haleth himself claimed to have been a victim of the foul champions, survived only by the kindly help of a beings known as Elves, seemingly ageless and wise humanoids enbumed with great magic, yet even they had been able to do so much for him.

The Rohan knight removed his helm and loosened his chainmail, Ozpin stared with morbid fascination at the floating pair of blue eyes, more accurately two blue lights. His blue gazed washed over the other students seemingly with pity, "They shall not be the same as they were, this great darkness will haunt them through their days, Master of Beacon, the Black Riders will seek them for they have been humbled by mere children, this is only a taste of their fury."

"How can we stop them? If what you say is true, then how can we stop these already dead men?" Glynda asked with a touch of horror in her voice, sorrow plagued her heart now that her students lied in agony that she could not relieve them of, her fears for their futures tore at her soul.

"With blade and magic can we hold them back but for how long I do not know." Haleth tore out leaves and let them upon the brows of the bedridden students, the comforting aromas seemingly doing their work by stilling the youths in their beds, but their pain plagued faces still twitched with nightmarish visions, "We must hope that the Maiar take pity upon us, send forth miracles to aid us."

Ozpin stared longingly at the broken moon above them with its radiant light shining down in his students, he silently prayed that they would not be so horrifically traumatized by the terrors that plagued them, for only scant whispers of hope seemed to be for them.

* * *

Across the countryside there was an expedition undertaken by the Alesian cruiser known as Shining Sun, the task of tracking down the Nine Black Riders was put upon the shoulders of Colonel Wallace Grey and the Atlesian Marines. He monitored a platoon of Atlesin Marines pursing three of the Riders upon their Grimm Stallions, the Atlesian APCs and jeeps struggled to keep pace with the monsters in the thick forest that they hunted them through.

From the call of one Ensign he knew that there was an abandoned town nearby by the name of Bloom's Moor, forgotten and abandoned after its crushing by a Grimm attack years ago, and it seemed like they were being lured there for a potential ambush. His forces were to take great caution with where they followed the Black Riders in the event that they were to be ambushed by the still missing horde that they had led.

Dark clouds obscured the ship's readings and communications, they struggled to maintain contact with their ground forces and with General Ironwood to whom they updated on the situation. Their radar was no longer functioning correctly, all sensors were now haywire, and a creeping feeling of dread clawed at the Colonel, "Status report."

"Sir, we've trapped the Black Riders in Bloom's Moor's cemetery, they haven't left from the other side and we're pursing-" Static cut into the feed, blocking out the transmission from the Captain on the ground.

"NO! Don't pursue them, wait for back- someone get Captain Mako back on the line, he's walking into a trap!"

Captain Mako Bonzewood marched quietly with his fellow Atlesians through the somber fogged graveyard of Bloom's Moor, overgrown vegetation obscured the names carved with the stones and tombs that covered the small field, black gates kept them enclosed with their quarries wandering throughout the deathly patch of land. They more than outnumbered their foes with Fire Dust guns, they cautiously swept through the maze of deathmarkers and knee-high grass, waist deep in misty fog.

He eyed every shadow with caution, there was this prickling feeling of anxiety that they were being watched by the shadows, moment from the corner of his eyes made his looming sense of paranoia seep further into his mind. When he reached the edge of the graveyard with no sign of his quarry, there was an overwhelming sense that he had walked right into a trap.

From behind the Atlesian Captain there was a statue of an angel with its hands covered over its eyes, between its wings crawled a shadow with metal claws creeping over the stone with supernatural silence, its hooded head creeped over the angel's weeping face, The Shadow Lord reversed his sword grip and raised it over the Atlesian before him.

A terrible dreadful feeling swept of the Atlesian Captain, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled fiercely, he turned with his eyes raised just as a sword pierced through his Aura and into his breast. He could not scream, frigid coldness held is body firmly and the shriek from his killer filled his ears before nothingness overtook him.

The Atlesians soon froze with terror with the cruel shrieks of the Nazgûl, unable to brave the terror struck their hearts with an icy chill. The Shadow Lord leapt from his perch and sundered the head from a doe eyed trooper, his comrade screamed with stark terror but was unable to utilize his weapon, his death was brought swiftly a thrust into his heart.

From the shadow of a grave, The Dwimmerlaik erupted, slashing a man across his breast blade, stomping on the back of his neck to finish the work his blade could not pierce. Bullets riddled his back, yet they simply fell like pellets, he turned to face a brave Atlesian rapidly pulling the trigger of his empty gun, bravery now drowning in horror. Behind two graves three Atlesians wielding their blades of a queer design momentarily intrigued The Dwimmerlaik, but like the sons of Eorl they shattered when he batted them away, the flesh of their masters rending for the Morgul blade.

With his comrades dispatched the lone Atlesian dropped his weapon and ran, only to The Dark Marshall pierce his chest with a wicked axe, the foul servant crawled low and quickly like a spider, taking away legs with faint swipes from his villainous weapon.

As the platoon struggled to combat the three foes slaughtering them in this field of death, a horde of Burz-urk descended upon them from the rear, their vehicles were no match from the teeming horde that tore doors from their hinges and crushed men like cans, feasting on their innards even as they faded from this world.

In the dark forest that surrounded the town stood The Undying raised his staff with his arms spread, whispering doom and terror into the air, the sky was now consumed with a thick cloudy storm, flashes of lightning struck the Atlesian cruiser with wicked winding bolts. Through the matter of a minute did the shields surrounding the ship die, long stretches of the hull were blacked now, fires raged from the points pierced by lightening.

Upon black furled wings did the Witch King lead the rest of his ghoulish riders, blackened flesh with bone armor, fanged teeth longer than the leg of a man, upon the backs of Grimmish Fell Beasts did they ride.

"Ready the fighter-craft! Get our Sky Hawks in the air!" Colonel Grey demanded, in all his years he had never seen such Grimm monsters, nor had he seen these beings that resembled men, the fact that rode upon the beasts sent an uneasy sense of terror through his soul.

The Witch King sent his beast low against the sky ship, its terrible talons tore deep gashes into the metal flesh, Buruz-Uruk spawned from the underbelly of his great beast, they found easy entry from the clawed ship. Though unarmed they were, their strength, claws, and ferocity outmatched the terror-stricken Humans that stumbled for their footing. Men were tossed about like broken dolls, bones snapped like dry twigs under the raw strength that their otherworldly foes possessed, though they managed to fell a dozen of the Grimmish Orcs, their magazines simply didn't have enough bullets and the gunmen no time to reload them.

The Witch King and his thrall took to the darkened clouds, forcing the screaming metal birds that their Human foes rode to follow them through darkness. His beast swooped down on one such machination with swift wings, its claws and unnatural strength tore the metal kite in two before its pieces exploded into flames, he raised a lightening Dust crystal in his claws and willed it to fire. Three bolts of purple lightening stretched across the sky and struck four aircraft, their pilots getting fried internally before their engines overloaded in a fiery plume of debris.

Khamûl cackled with bloodlust where his eyes once were, his winged beast dove low and caught one of the screaming kites in its massive claws, squeezing slightly to crush the wings but not enough to destroy it. He phased into his monster and came out through its underbelly, taking pleasure in seeing the frantic screaming human behind his glass cask. Khamûl leapt down and smashed the glass with dark magic infused in his metal fist, patiently he allowed his feeble prey to expend every little missile from his contraption that his master was now keenly intrigued with.

"W-what are you!?" The human mewled with a whimper as Khamûl gripped him by his collar.

"I am… Nazgûl- WRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYY-" Khamûl through his scream watched with perverse sadistic glee, the pilot's eyes had rolled, his mouth foaming, ears and nose streaming blood. Unknown to the Easternling king however, the pilot's comm was on an open mic and the scream was heard by every Atlesian pilot, they were seized with pain and fear, unable to fly their lifeless mounts away from the fast approaching earth far below.

Colonel Grey smashed his fists on the commslink that gave them live coverage over the pilot's chatter, he slumped slightly feeling the terror in his soul abide but forced himself to stand, accepting a rifle from one of his Marines on deck. The enemy was now on his ship, those feral humanoids were slaughtering the crew faster than anyone on board could react, they were making their way to the bridge.

With what men on the bridge was who he'd make his stand with, they had been sending constant messages for aid, but it was unknown if any mad it through, the ship was unable to move without lightening carving through it. There was no hope for them here. They steadied their arms, the Buruz-Urks were pounding on the door with furious murderous appetites, Colonel Grey just hoped they'd appreciate a spicy mouthful of 8.95 SDC Fire Dust rounds to quench their cravings.

When it seemed, the door was ready to give, they suddenly stopped their racket, with a heavy procession they shuffled away from the door, snarling and hooting wildly. Colonel Grey felt no relief, instead there was the slithering tendrils of dread caressing his heart, he turned just in time to see great black claws tear open the bridge's viewport, leaving them bare to rain and rushing chilling winds.

The Colonel ducted, witnessing a winged Grimm monster scoop up three men between its claws and toss them to the merciless storm, their cries smothered deafly by thunderous roars from beast and sorcery induced nature. A beast latched itself to the ship and picked off a man between its long swordlike teeth, it snatched up another and smashed two others with a swing of its head before taking off once more.

His bullets were lost to the torrent weather, veering off randomly to the streams of wind that toyed with him and his remaining handful of Atlesians. He reloaded a magazine hastily with numbed fingers, he shivered from cold and soul crushing terror, the largest beast loomed over head with its claws digging into his once proud ship.

The Witch King descended from his mount with the weight of destiny upon him, he was the end, the unavoidable one, the crusher of these men's dreams and lives. His sword unsheathed burned with ethereal flames, his mace being unwieldly to a lowly man was leaning upon his shoulder with wicked impatience for use. Their meek storm of metal wreathed in flames served not even as inconvenience for him, it was almost pitiful to see these dead men struggle so fruitlessly against his undeniable will. With a wide swing he swatted away some hapless fool that charged him with his meek battle cry, his flaming sword skewered through the follow up attacker and incinerated him.

Colonel Grey attempted with unsteady hands to reload his rifle, his remaining men hadn't even laid a hand on the shrouded demon they faced, its mace struck away Petty Officer Brook into a crumpled mess of ichor, with a backhand swing of his flaming sword, Lance-Corporal Amethyst lost his sword and took the mace against his ribs. Aura like his bones snapped swiftly.

"DIE DAMN YOU!" The Colonel roared desperately as his bullets fell uselessly to the ground, whatever protected this creature, its power was beyond Grey's capabilities, though he by nature refused to die without a fight.

The Colonel transformed his rifle into its blade configuration, he thrusted forward with a primal cry of rage, but his foe was as unfazed as a funeral procession, he watched with fearful horror as his blade pierced through the shadowy man, only to immediately shatter to bits. Blood sprayed from Colonel Grey's mouth, he gasped from the terrible chilling sting that forced his muscles to tense with otherworldly pain originating through his chest.

A cruel grin played itself across the Witch King's twisted sightless ghoulish lips, "Go forth into the void, where all your Kingsmen shall descend, greet your wailing kin when they fall, and suffer endless nothingness together."

With fettered dying breaths he clung to the blade, his hands being cut along the steel as it slid from his breast, Grey spat a defiant dying spray of blood onto his foes' iron mask, "Atlas… will never fall…f-fff-fuck you!"

Colonel Grey collapsed with empty eyes, his expression at rest within his pooling blood that stayed his once crisp uniform. In the wailing wind did the Witch King unleash a triumphant screech of victory, his fellow fallen kings rejoiced all the same in the glory of their master, Sauron. With eldritch energy wreathing his iron fingers, he waved his hand over the room, forcing the bonds of the immaterial and material plane, capturing the spirits of the recently dead as they lamented their ill begotten fates. Weaving chains of spells he forced the fallen workers of the ship that sailed the skies to man their former posts and set a course from beyond these lands of Men.

From beyond these bloodied fields more of Sauron's evil had spread much like an evil plague, no town nor village was safe from his sights and that of the ravenous hunger for violence. They ravaged all that had been touched by the wisdom of Man, desecrating solemn sites, tearing down statues of the long dead, and setting aflame the histories scrapped together from the elders who had compiled tome after tome for lifetimes.

In one such village did this evil rear its terrible gaze.

* * *

Buruz-Urks were going home to home, twisted blades dripping with the lifelines of many kin, yet their bloodlust was not sated so much as one man, woman, or child drew breath. They found a paltry patchwork of overturned cars and hastily constructed iron fence bars reinforcing their barricade, fear drenched Humans and Faunus huddled together with rapidly whispering lips to their gods, sobbing children wrapped up in the fearful arms of their mothers. Men and brave women who had armed themselves with measly guns and swords readied themselves for destiny, they were going to give their loved ones as much time as they could buy them to run for the hills, however fruitless such an endeavor might be.

Through this chaos of fear none had the hope of tomorrow's dawn, as the horns and roars of the Buruz-Urks signaled death, the men and women prepared themselves to fall this night, but not without giving the demon bastards a challenge for their meal.

From over the barricade came a Bezerker, his daunting height and deafening roar stumbled the defenders with shaky arms and weakened legs. He raised his great sword fashioned in the likes Isengard's blades, poised to strike down a trembling Monkey Faunus using herself as a shield for her child.

His blade did come down, but not with slash, but with a clatter. With trepidation the Faunus woman looked up with bloodshot and tear-stricken eyes, the beast stood with the wooden shaft of an arrow impaled between its dumbstruck glowing red eyes, falling backwards with smoke tearing his form asunder. More of the Grimmish Goblinoids scrambled over the wall of makeshift metals, only to be struck down by more unseen arrows.

From the rooftops above two archers leapt from their perch, gracefully meeting the ground with soft thuds despite their armor. One stood tallest, his face obscured with a cloth mask with shimmering green eyes poised with deadly intent, his armor of the Mirkwood Elves, notching another arrow to slay the spawn of Sauron. Beside the Elf, a man, a Dúnedain Ranger with his dark green cloak billowing, his hood revealing a youthful furious gaze, "Spawn of the Dark Lord, villainous cowards! You will plague these free folk no longer!"

The Elf with the typical gracefulness of his race was the first to cross the distance and vault over the patchwork barricade, in the air he fired three of his steel tipped missiles into charging Buruz-Urk Hai, their squeals sounding their death rattles. He avoided the clumsy swings of the beasts as they tried to surround him, but the Dúnedain Ranger pelted a few from atop the barricade, he crouched low to avoid a black arrow before landing killing the offending archer with one of his own.

"A son of Mirkwood shouldn't be made to combat such unworthy foes," He spun on his heel with two notched arrows, sending both screaming missiles through the heads of an Urk and its Grimmish counterpart, the Elf parried a sword slash with the bladed end of its bow, "Dwarven work this may be, but not Elven."

Thunderous bellowing laughter broke through the chaos, a stout armored being barreled through three Buruz-Urks, dense muscles propelled axe and hammer, rending limbs and crushing chests. The armored Dwarf was merry in his madness, bringing terror to the monochrome beasts as they were repelled with his tenacity, "Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul! Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu! I swear by Durin that your heads will adorn my belt! HAHAHA! Bhalgok Faen takes no prisoners!"

The Elf rolled his eyes, his next steel tipped missile stealing an urk from the dwarf.

Bhalgok gasped, "Hadrion Suilon! Bastard elf! That one was mine!"

"It hadn't your name on it!" Hardion ducked a swing from one Buruzum-Urk, kicking off another to smash his armored knee into its face. The bladed edges of his bow parried a coming sword and took the head from the monster.

The Dúnedain Ranger bisected an Orc by the torso with one swing of his bastard sword, he pierced the breast of bezerker, twisted the blade and kicked the beast from his blade. He ducted under a clawed swing, countering with his sword, felling the offending arm and cleaving a head clean from broad shoulders clad in black armor.

With three fierce fighters holding the dark horde at bay, townsfolk could only lament that there was nowhere else to flee, with trepidation they took up arms in an attempt to assist the strangers, who were now their heroes. That momentary courage fled their hearts, some of that courage went down their pantlegs when a mass of darkness and white bone crushed their measly barricade.

"Great," Muttered the Dúnedain Ranger, "they've got themselves an armored troll."

Hadrion reached towards his quiver, only to find he was now sparse on missiles, "I've no arrows, but blades. May we trim this beast down to size?"

Bhalgok roared with his giddy laugh, as though in a party rife with gayety, "Now this is a challenge! Bring forth your worst you gutless worms!"

The Buruz-olog-hai snarled with spittle dropping like pales of well water, it ground its gnarled teeth, large as sheers they were. Red pitless eyes of hatred glared at the three warriors before it, Buruz-Urks and Beowulves flanked its sides, **"Wot's dis? Puny man-thing, elf-thing, and an appetizer? Dis iz stopping my terror-party?"**

"Oi!" Bhalgok shouted, pointing with his axe, "Who're you calling appetizer ya mountain of goat shite!? I'll kick yer teeth out with me IRON FOCKIN' FEET YA GIT!"

The Buruz-olog-hai roared angrily its club, its minions prepared for their assault, long claws reflecting fire and moonlight. Blades crude and sharp with killing intent, teeth wet with hunger as maws hung wide with anticipation of flesh dripping with blood.

"You cannot pass." Came a voice.

With calm temperament a man clad in grey robe and with a long wide brimmed hat stepped forth, accompanied with a walking stick in hand. Villagers looked on in bewilderment, much as the Buruz-olog-hai, whose gapping maw shrunk, raised arms slowly lower, as its limited cognitive mind started to become clouded. Even is folk of darkness stared on with their unwise crimson eyes, their instincts muddled.

A villager called out, "What are you doing grandpa!? You're going to get yourself-"

"Silence fool!" The old man called back, his shark gaze like a razor's edge, silencing the well meaning yet rude man, he turned his gaze back to the monsters at hand, "You cannot pass, fly, fly back to your master in his darkness, let you plague these people no longer."

The daunting monster seemed at a loss for words.

"Turn back and never return, or you shall never leave here to bask in your beloved shadows."

"**Who…who dares to-" **

"I am a servant of The Secret Fire," the old man said, tipping up his hat, "And I shall not warn thee again foul creature."

There was momentary silence between the sides of good and evil, the beasts of Sauron's hordes regarded the old man with caution, confused on how this meek elder could speak so bravely to threaten them. The villagers were at a loss, unable to recall this strange old man, unable to comprehend the timidness of these merciless monsters.

In sacrilege of this calm came the Buruz-olog-hai's chortle, its hand placed upon his bone white armored breast, the goblinoids be the buruz or flesh, laughed. With his arrogance covering his unease, the lumbering beast hefted his club and charged with a roar, followed by his monstrous kin.

A frown crossed the old man's lips, he raised his staff high as he spoke, "YOU! SHALL NOT! PASS!"

The staff came down with a thunderous boom, light of brilliance so blinding that naught even the men or Faunus-folk could bear witness, averting their eyes as the torrent of illumination and thunderous roars filled the air.

Blindness encompassed the creatures of darkness, their all but gone, fiery pain wreathed their bodies as flesh became mist, claw became dust, bone burst into smoke, and swords clattered to the ground. The Buruz-olog-hai was no more, a cloud of mist was its fleeting form, along with the pursuing horde, their remaining kinfolk fled back with once proud tails now tucked with humiliation between fleeing legs.

No longer clad in grey was the old man, instead now his robes were white as his flowing hair and beard, his eyes were ever keen as his gaze was sharp. The three accompanying warriors unshielded their eyes, though they were too proud to admit it, they were glad Gandalf The White had put an end to the seemingly hopeless battle.

"Come now, fellows," The wizard called back to them, he whistled into the wind, "we must not bide our time any longer, Haleth Mund shall require our aid. This was only a taste of the coming darkness."

Steeds burdened with saddles came, followed by a stout hog with tusks long as scimitars with a saddle of its own. The members of the small party would depart without so much as a goodbye, nor thanks, nor congratulations.

Time was not on their side, the darkness grew evermore, black sails with the red eye set sail. Upon these barges were swarthy men, clad in armor gilded of a golden color, helmets shaped as that of a dragon's face, alongside them were men wrapped in turbans with scimitars at their hilts. The Easterlings of the Golden Dragon Horde of Rhûn and their Southron comrades of Harad answered the call of Sauron to traverse through worlds.

For war.

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Dun-dun-dun!

Well would you look at that, a year has passed and now that ole bastard Doomsdayguy12345 updates it, its not like he left a cliffhanger or anything. Or has anything special to say, save for rambling that no one cares for. Hope you enjoyed.


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